Exhaling much too loudly, Lark watched his mother give a curious eyebrow quirk. Her voice was soft, comforting. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright. They just have a commanding presence is all.”

“Oh, I understand. They do, don’t they?”

Winter ushered him along with the rest of the group, though she had to go sit elsewhere in sight while the ceremony happened. When Lark turned to find her she waved at him with a nervous smile. It wasn't very reassuring while he was freaking out so much.

Standing next to about five other people, Lark shifted his feet anxiously with his obvious unwillingness. All these people were transfixed with prayer, barely lifting their heads before the crystal above them. Peeking up at it, Lark felt his body lock up again.

For a moment he had… definitely seen eyes looking at him.

His attention was diverted as Meis raised their hands and then clasped them high, head low.

“I bid you, O’ merciful Phelmactia, to look upon these lost souls who are in need of your protection.”

Other faithful repeated every word in a low echo.

“So I ask you, with all of our humble devotion, to bestow upon them a ward. A ward made of your tears, your soul, and your light, so that these humans will know peace until their last days.”

A murmur went up among the crowd and Lark looked around in confusion, unable to join in. He didn’t care that much but it was a matter of being self-conscious in front of strangers. 

In some orderly line, Lark watched the few people before him go through with the blessing. All that transpired was the person, still fully clothed, completely submerging themselves for a few moments within the water. Once they breached the surface they were dried off, given fresh clothes and Meis said a few words and shook the person’s hands.

Soon enough, as dread formed a bigger pit in Lark’s stomach, it was his turn.

Meis beckoned him closer and he obeyed with unsteady feet, thoughts filled with anxiety of messing up or of staying under the water too long. His mother had thankfully given him advice on what to wear so his clothes wouldn’t be annoying underwater. He dipped a foot in as he sat on the edge of the pool, feeling numerous pairs of eyes on him from all directions. Glancing up at Meis, who simply smiled and motioned towards the pool, Lark held his breath- 

-and went for the plunge.

…

… …

It was cold, really cold. 

Not frigid but still a chill that bit into your skin and then even deeper.

Opening his eyes Lark looked through the clear water, seeing old mosaic tiles around him. Having timed how long other people had stayed under, he started counting; no more than 15 seconds was enough. When he was just getting past eight, pain shot through his body from the tips of his toes all the way up through his neck.

Gasping and reluctantly letting his held breath escape, Lark grasped at his throat as bubbles raced upwards. A burning sensation, cold yet hot at the same time, like someone had gripped him there with inhuman force to forcefully hold him under the water.

Vision flickering wildly, Lark reached towards the surface but found it an almost impossible task with how heavy he felt.

“Okay… that’s not supposed to happen…”

As he struggled to keep his eyes open, something finally came into focus; three pairs of black eyes all in a row, flecks of light like stars glinting in their contained abyss. Hands held his shoulders down and another pair held his face. The figure’s own expression was blank, but a smile sood parted their features, their lips a thin line. 

As Lark stared at them, somewhat horrified, he watched their smile part, revealing a black mouth and equally as black teeth split their entire face open almost in half. They tilted their head, marveling at Lark’s horror with interest. Wrestling to get free, Lark couldn’t resist the creature’s iron grip. Just as quickly as they appeared, they then vanished into the water like a cloud of paint.

Lark’s vision stuttered, then went black.

His memory frizzled like a spent flame, black smiles and starry sky eyes going up in smoke until there was nothing left to remember.

…

… …

… … …

A numbing feeling, not just in his body. Lark felt it in his very being as if flesh and bones were bit by frost. Usually in a situation like this you’d panic, desperation coursing through your veins to survive.

Yet… all he thought was a dull notion of needing to breathe. Because that’s what his body required, right? So he went to stand, pushing his feet against the bottom of the pool that he rested in.

There was a noisy splash as he breached the water, equally as noisy gasps around him. Silently he wrung out his clothes, paying the shocked faces no heed. Looking for his mother Lark spied her in a pew nearby, features wracked with horror. Looking down at himself and seeing nothing amiss, he stepped out of the pool to go to her and ask what was wrong.

It was strange… he didn’t care about the expression she was making but just wanted to know what exactly had scared her.

A hand wrapped around his wrist in a vice grip enough to bruise and Lark stopped. Turning his body he saw Meis, their own face a delightfully warped smile.

“How interesting. How… joyous.”

Raising an eyebrow Lark didn’t attempt to get free. He glanced at Meis’s hand around his wrist. “Is there… a reason for this?”

Meis blinked quickly in surprise and then laughed; it sounded ominous. “Oh, Lark… You have no idea what’s happened, have you?”

“...No.”

Hands suddenly cupped Lark’s face and Meis tugged him closer, their pale eyes seeing into him. “Yes, what a surprise. It’s all there.”

“Is there something on my face?” Asked Lark flatly, reaching up one of his own hands to pull at the wet hair over his forehead.

“Oh, no no no. I was admiring your eyes, that’s all.” Pulling away, Meis addressed the crowd that had gathered. Lark noticed it was vastly bigger than before. Raising his arms towards the crystal and then towards the congregation, Meis seemed jubilant.

“A blessing like no other has graced our halls today! A new Saint has been chosen by our God.”

Cheers rang around the hall, mixed with joyful weeping and kneeling in Lark’s direction. Unperturbed for the moment, Lark looked around. Then he looked down at his hands. A monumental feeling draped over him in a quilt of dread.

“Shit.”

He mumbled, feeling a sudden presence at his side. Winter was squeezing his shirt, wringing it in sweaty palms.

“Lark! Lark… Oh, Lark…” Despair oozed in her voice, and Lark knew why but couldn’t completely feel the same. All he did know was this hadn’t been what he wanted.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Winter turned down her tear stained face, laying her head against her son’s shoulder. Tilting his head, Lark embraced her and laid his head upon hers.

This hadn’t been what she wanted.

…

… …